


Eyes of the Beholder

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Drama, M/F - Category, M/M, Romance, Series: Eyes of the Beholder, h/c, other pairing - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 02:40:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes you have to take your strength from those who need you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eyes of the Beholder

**Author's Note:**

> This will eventually contain a m/f loving relationship. This doesn't, however, mean that I've turned my back on J/B- they're in here, they're just not the central characters. This story sprang to life over a senad discussion of beauty and appearance. Personally, I adore Joel Taggart, and an OBSenad that I had written turned into this. Also, the main character is bright and compassionate, but she hasn't had much in the way of formal schooling, so her language is intentionally rough. There is rape in here, so if that offends you, please don't read this. Also, I haven't seen any episodes and am woefully short in my knowledge of some things, so if I am terribly wrong, I'm sorry. Tell me what I got wrong, and I'll do better next time. This wasn't supposed to be my first post-- I'm working on a J/B that became _so_ long and _so_ cumbersome in angst and, well, sex, that I had to do something else to get the writing flowing again. Please let me know if you liked it- this is the first in a three or four part series.

## Eyes of the Beholder

by Palthanas Mary

Author's disclaimer: Joel and the rest of the Cascadians do not belong to me, alas. Sallie, however, does, even though I have no problems sharing if anybody wanted her. Yup, I'm dirt poor and nope, writing this story isn't going to change that, so what's the point in getting your britches in a knot about it? Two Worlds belongs to Phil Collins and Disney.

* * *

"Raise your head up  
Lift high the load  
Take strength from those that need you Build high the walls  
Build strong the beams  
A new life is waiting  
But danger's no stranger here." 

-Two Worlds by Phil Collins (Tarzan soundtrack) 

I love to watch him as he talks, his ready smile lightening the dull a tmosphere and making the air of the room _buzz_ with excitement and contentment, God, I love the way his eyes shine and snap, like they're so full of energy that he can't help but let it spill over into the room, the darkness of his gaze only adding to it's frank beauty. 

He smiles at me, sometimes. It's a friendly and open smile, showing a row of white teeth as his gentle hands reach out for the cup I'm offering him. I try to match his eyes, try to be bold in the face of his genteel kindness, but I always drop my head and scurry back to the safety of the counter, cursing myself for not doing _something_. 

I've always been shy, someone who didn't fight back when her pap cuffed her hard and called her a 'good-for-nothing-bitch.' I've always let the man do all the choosing, letting them come to me when no-one else would have them and say nothing as they roughly entered me before I was ready. Sometimes, if I were lucky, they'd hold me for a bit before turning away to sleep. 

Sometimes it just happen that way. 

Slow to anger, slower to show it-- that's always been me. So why did I react like I did when she walked in the room? 

Her hips swayed as if to the throbbing drum-beats of Africa or the crescendoing tempo of orgasm, her full breasts spilling over the rich red of her top. I found myself crossing my arms over my chest defensively, ashamed to be seen next to this goddess and very aware of every male eyes in the room moving in her direction. Even _his_. I felt betrayed yet accepting. My mousy brown hair and whip-thin body couldn't compete with her savvy grace, and I damned well knew that she would be able to go up to Joel and just _talk_ to him, assured and calm. 

Her eyes raked over in his direction, pausing as she noticed his gentle interest, and her lips extended into a wide painted smile. I could see Joel's own smile widen, and I wanted so much to throw my apron over my head and scream. She hadn't even said a word and already she had him. 

And then, then she moved on, her hips sashaying as she slid into an empty chair along the counter, ignoring the man that she had spurned. Joel's smile faltered, then faded, and my heart burned as I saw him tugging at his shirt as if he was ashamed by the fat underneath. I was shocked, ashamed, and so, so angry for his sake. He deserved so much better than anything _she_ could give him. 

I had to talk to him, had to tell him that it was all right, that I was his even if she wasn't. I knew I weren't no goddess-- no-one had to tell _me_ that-- but I could be _his_. I wanted so bad to be his. 

The coffee pot didn't shake in my hand for once as I moved towards him, my head held high and my shoulders straightened from their shy hunch. I could feel male eyes on me as I transformed, breaking from my shell as I neared his table, my own eyes soft and my smile ready. He was staring into his coffee mug, shamed, and I wanted to lay his head against my breasts and stroke his hair. 

"Joel?" My voice wasn't my own; it was filled with confidence and valor and earthen femininity. I was Sallie, and I was going to.... 

But as his eyes met mine, I felt myself wilting again. Why should he notice me? He had looked at _her_ with appreciation and maybe desire, but I.... I.... 

"Do you want more coffee?" 

And he smiled and declined and I went back to the shelter of my counter, crying inside 'cause he couldn't hear what I was really saying to him then; he couldn't hear my real words. 

I said, I love you. 

I didn't really want to close the restaurant and go home that night, 'cause I knew exactly what would be waiting for me when I finally twisted the key within it's old, rusted lock. The ancient hallways smell of cigarette smoke, old beer and even older vomit, and I always try to hold my breath as I ascend up the filthy stairs (we've given up hope of the elevator _ever_ being fixed) so's I don't have to take in a lungfull of that stench. It never works, though. I always make it up to the third flight or so before I have to take a deep, gulping breath, sucking the bitter, tangy sweetness into my lungs, my throat gagging on the taste of it. Music and screams blare from behind paper-thin walls, the persistent beat of the bass drum making a strange undercut to the hateful yells and the sharp tinny of breaking glass. 

I don't really mind living here at all; it's not that. I know my lot in life and, though I may fancy myself sometimes out of the dirt and the stench of everything, I've kinda come to the point where the desperation to escape no longer nags at me so fierce. I've been beaten down, I suppose, into the acceptance of the way things stand, and no dreaming or wishing or praying's gonna do me any good. Life's tough, so swallow the pill and move along the line. 

But that don't-- _doesn't_ \-- mean that I've given up on trying. How I figure it, a body can only be slapped down so many times before she becomes used to it. I've got more than many people that I know- I have a roof over my head and a job that I don't hate and... oh, so many things. I don't have to have nice clothes or pretty cars to make me go through each day. They's just extras, like a bonus added to your paycheck that you weren't expecting. Something that would be right good to have, but's not necessary. 

But there are some things that _are_ necessary, at least for me. And that something was waiting in my two-room apartment for me. 

Which is why I weren't-- wasn't-- so keen about going inside. 

I've known Bobby ever since we were in middle school together about... oh, about twenty years ago. He was the big man on campus- champion of the football team and head wrestler. Now, I've never been much to look at, and Bobby.... Well, Bobby was the _star_ , so's I never really had to contend with him, you know? He chased after girls like Ellen and Barbara, the cheerleaders and all, not mousy-lousy Sallie Kent. I weren't up to his social expectations. But as time went on by, Bobby fell into some hard times. He was one of the only ones who ended up going to college after high school-- I had to move up north with my family and all-- and it seems like he got in trouble with the drink and drugs and all that going on. He flunked out mid-first year, about sixty pounds heavier and thirty-percent dumber. But, ya see, Bobby still thought that he was some hot stuff, so he went about strutting and putting on macho airs like your'n wouldn't believe. And those Ellen's and Barbara's.... Well, they weren't so interested in a fat, drugged Bobby McCleer. 

But I guess I'm different and he know'd-- knew-- it. I don't like to think that I'm a slut or particularly loose, but I have had my moments of shame throughout my life. I mean, it seemed kinda pointless to protect what you no longer had, and my virtue had gone the way of the dodo when I was about eight years old, so I saw no problem with snuggling up with a guy if he were interested. I always could'a said no, I suppose, but there was always the fact that I _wanted_ to have someone there to be with. The guys may have smelled or may have been crude, but they were warm and their skin was giving, and for a bit there, right after he emptied himself into me, I could close my eyes and fell encased in something the likes that I've never seen or felt before. 

Sometimes I feel like a two-timing bitch, loving Joel and humping Bobby the way that I do. I don't feel particularly bad for Bobby- he don't love me and I've ever known it, but Joel.... He's different from any guy that I've ever met. He's _special_ and _clean_ and... and, well, I kinda feel like I'm dirtying him when I love him and get the physical elsewhere. I don't want to. I want to be with him and only him, you know? I want to lie down beside him at night and bury my face into the warm expanse of his shoulder. I want to wake up with his face next to mine on the pillow and be able to smell his scent on my clothes as I fix us breakfast. I wanna be told that I'm beautiful and smart and everything in the world to somebody instead of absolutely nothing to everybody. I wanna baby that has my nose and his eyes that cries and laughs and has to be changed and kissed and cared for.... God, I want so much. 

Dreams are dangerous, 'cause they take away your acceptance. I look at Bobby and I don't see Joel, and I hate him for that. 

And I think Bobby knows it, too. 

The door always creaks open on dead hinges, as if it were screaming at you in a horrible foreign tongue. The little TV is on, blaringly loud, it's bluish tint giving color to the darkened room and flickering over the sleeping hulk of my 'boyfriend.' I can never tell if he falls asleep waiting up for me or if it's just that he drifts off in front of the TV, his mind vegetating. I hate it when he leaves the thing on-- it costs good money that I am forced to fork over, as I'm the only one with a paying job. Bobby keeps on saying that he's going to get a job sometime, he's just working out in his mind when and where and all those particulars. He knows he ain't fooling me- he has no intention of getting a job- but I always let it go with a placid 'yeah, all right honey' and then we fuck. It pretty much seems to me like that's all that he does: eat the food I cook, watch the TV, and have sex with me when I come home at about three am from the night shift at the diner. 

I place my things neatly on the rickety old table and head over the cut the TV off. I really wish that he'd remember to do it for himself, but every time I mention it, he gets all defensive and bullying and I just let it go. The money that could be saved is not worth a run-in with his temper, I can tell you that. 

Bobby stirs as the lights go out, grunting and mumbling as his eyes open blearily. "Sallie, that you?" I'm always tempted to answer 'no, it's the devil,' but I've got a pretty healthy fear of that Ole Trickster, so's I'm not gonna raise up his attention by calling on him. Instead I say "Yeah, it's me," in my bone-weary voice, my hands easily stripping off my uniform so I can lay it neatly on the counter. I'll have to wash and press it tomorrow, 'cause it's the only one I've got and I haveta be at work at six o'clock in the evening. 

"Come here, baby," he rumbles, holding out his arms for me. 

He always call me baby when he wants some, but I guess I don't mind too much. It's affection. Well, kinda. 

I go to him, of course. He may be fumbling and he may be rough, but he's a warm body and I want to lose myself in the heat. I sit on his lap and he fumbles around a bit with my breasts, panting and grunting deeply as he begins to thrust up into my butt. He kisses me sloppily, thrusting his wet tongue into my mouth, and I resignedly suck at it as I try to ease the waistband of his tattered sweatpants over his hips, wanting to get the sex part over as quickly as possible. Most of the time, Bobby seems willing to go along with this, stripping and thrusting in without any ado, but I guess he's frisky tonight, and I know that I'll have to endure about ten minutes of huffing and groping and licking before he's finally ready to stuff me and go to sleep. 

All this for company. 

God, I should get myself committed. 

Sometimes I think I'd go quite crazy, like that girl in Hamlet, if I didn't have the diner to come to. I'm not really supposed to be at work until around six in the evening as I have the graveyard shift, but most days I go out early just to get out of the house. I leave the apartment at about 12:00 and go out to a park down on the other side of town and just sit there and look at the flowers. Or, sometimes, I go to the public library and sit down in one of the dark, forgotten corners and read for a bit. I know that I didn't get the education that I would have likedmy pap said it was pure foolishness for a girl to get too much learning. If she did, then she'd get all uppity, and he never did like the idea much of one of his'n to be smarter than him. So I stayed home a lot of the time and took care of the kids while ma laid in bed all day and pap went out to work at the plant and drink with his buddies. I guess I didn't mind it too much, but I really would have liked to be able to learn more. As it is, I try to puzzle my way through as many books as I can handle now. I have a particular love for Shakespeare and Dickens, but I have a hell of a time trying to figure out the language. But it's fun, like reading the Good Book and letting all those thees and thys roll off your tongue. 

As I was saying, I often go to work a good hour or so early, and Frank (that's the owner) lets me make myself a sandwich or something for my own dinner. Then I start waiting on tables and work to keep the place clean. It's like Frank's Diner is the only place that I can, you know, let loose. I am _me_ there. Weird, I know. 

Most nights, he comes in to eat. He as in Joel, that is, and not Frank. Sometimes he's alone and sometimes he has some of his friends with himRafe and Henri and Jim and Blair and sometimes a pretty red-head named Megan. I'm not so sure I like it when _she_ comes in, though. It's probably more of a jealousy thing than anything else, but I still can't stand to see how beautiful and alive and smart she is. Huh- I bet _she_ never had a hard time figuring Hamlet. I like it best when he comes in alone, as he does quite often. When he's not surrounded by his friends, I can almost imagine myself going up and sitting with him and having a real conversation, not like the small chats that we sometimes have. Or, rather, that he has towards _me_. For some reason, I always lose my tongue around him. 

Tonight, he came in with Rafe and Henri, and he seemed honestly happy to be there with them. They sat down together at a plastic booth, and I gathered three menus to take to them. Joel said hello and how are you? as I came near, and Rafe gave me this huge grin like I was supposed to think he was adorable or something. Personally, I think he's a scoundrel and there's no two cents more to say about it. Then, after I had taken their drink orders (Joel ordered a diet coke, which the other two found humorus- I'll show them humor, those SOB scum-bags) I left the table and they talked quite good-naturedly for a bit. Rafe seemed to be boasting about something, and as I moved near with their orders, I could plain as day hear what that monster was about. 

"Well, you just _can't_ go without a date. That goes against tradition." 

"And I suppose that you already have a date, Romeo?" His partner's voice was dry and faintly sarcastic. 

Nothing, but nothing, could put that boy down. "Nah, but I'm going to get one. Just you watch." He looked up at me as I came nearer, and I stopped in my tracks, surprised. Rafe? 

But then his eyes skated past and fell upon a pretty young thing down at another booth. "Excuse me, gentlemen," he said all smooth-like, getting out of the chair. "Opportunity knocks." Then he brushed past me without another glance. 

Well, I didn't _want_ Rafe to ask me out, but it still kinda hurt that he didn't even consider it at all. Like I wasn't even worthy of notice or something. That stung mighty bad. 

But Joel was saying something quietly, something like _he_ didn't have a date, and Henri just glanced at him and said 'oh, you can take Megan,' and I bounced back from hurt to fury. Did he think that Joel couldn't get a date on his own merit? Is _that_ was he was saying? I wanted to haul out and smack him, but of course I couldn't, so instead I put down their drinks and began taking food orders. Rafe came back in the middle of this, swaggering intolerably and holding a slip of paper with a phone number scrawled across it. I weren't really surprised that he got the number, but I did wish that he wouldn't flaunt it like he did as he folded it up and stuck it in his wallet. It just weren't-- wasn't-- right, that's all. 

I basically stayed away from them for the rest of the meal, busying myself with the other customers so's I didn't have to hear their talk. I rang up their orders with a small smile for Joel's 'good-night' and when they had left, I headed towards their table to clear away the mess. A tip was sequestered beneath Joel's cup, and I smiled as I lifted it up. Joel was always conscientious about tipping, almost as if he realized that I had little money and was always in need of more. But, as I lifted it up, two things caught my attention. One was that it was a twenty, and that enormous amount (especially since I did very little) was absolutely amazing to me. The second was that the bill had writing on it. Curious, I put down the glass and looked at what the words said. They were small and scrunched together, but they were the most beautiful things I'd ever seen. There was a smiling face and the letters: 'Smile! You have a beautiful smile and should use it more often. Love, Joel.' 'Love, Joel'. Not 'From Joel' or simply 'Joel', but 'Love, Joel.' I touched the paper to my heart, swearing to myself that I would never, ever spend it, and then, a smile breaking out across my face, I went back to work. 

Love ya too, Joel. 

Business was pretty slow that night, so's Frank let me go early so I could 'catch some zzz's.' I don't know if I could actually sleep tonightmy stomach was turning in knots at what Joel had done for me. I swear, I grinned like a darned fool the entire evening, it made me that happy. Even Frank commented that I "looked rather chipper" and he's a dear man, but he's as dense as a briar patch when it comes to anything other than the diner. I practically floated back to my place, the twenty clutched in my hands as I imagined his sweet black face and beautiful dark eyes. How was I supposed to wait until the next evening to see him again? 

It was on the bus back to my place that I came to a realization. I had been kinda looking at this sweet old couple sitting at one end of the bus, and in watching them I knew that that's what I wanted. That's what love is, not the few warm moments you share with someone after sex. And, on the tail of this realization came an epiph... an eifph.... A revelation. I loved Joel and I was cheapening myself by being with Bobby. My love was being tarnished by this thing that wasn't anywhere near it in scope or feeling. That easily, I knew that I had to tell Bobby to git the hell out. I knowed it wouldn't be an easy thing to do-- I'm sure Bobby's gotten used to being taken care of, but it was something that I had to do, for Joel. Yep, for Joel ,but most of all, for myself. 

Now I realized that it would be difficult to get Bobby to leave, but I didn't' realize exactly how difficult it would end up being. I guess I weren't really realistic when I imagined the scene on the bus, for all the scenes that ran through my mind about what may happen never even came close, to what actually _did_ happen. 

He was waiting for me in front of the TV, though because I was so early, he hadn't had the chance to fall asleep yet. He stared at me when I came in the door, his huge hairy belly hanging over the waistband of his old sweat-pants, his eyes blurry from drugs. "Hey, Sallie," he practically belched, one huge hand reaching down his pants to scratch at his crotch. "You home early." 

I wanted to retreat and clutch my precious gift from Joel so's I could get strength, but then I looked him in's the eyes and imagined Joel's face and smile, and then I had all the strength I needed. "I want'cha to get out, Bobby." My voice wasn't wavering or weak, I was proud to notice. He stared at me with his mouth plopped open, as if he couldn't believe what I was saying. So I repeated myself. "I said, I want'cha to get out." 

"You telling me to git?" His already beady eyes were narrowing in his fleshy face, and I put my hands on my hips in a right queenly manner, my long, thin nose lifting into the air. 

"That's what I said, Bobby McCleer- I want you to git." Now he was rumbling dangerously as he struggled to his feet, the hairy mass of his stomach swinging before him. I backed up a small step, then steeled my legs, determined not to give any more space. My hand clutched the precious twenty, taking strength from the imagined eyes of Joel, and I faced him as he bore down on me. 

I was expecting the blow, but I weren't expecting it to be so hard. Bobby's hit me before if he was angry or upset, but it was never so brutal and mean. His beefy hand smashed across my cheekbone, making my head snap to the side as my eyes rolled up into my head. I fell, naturally-- there was only so much standing a 119 pound woman can do when compared to 278 pounds of feral meanness-- and my head made a sharp contact with the edge of the coffee table. As I fell, my hands reached out to try to ward off blows while my elbows tried real hard to break my fall, and then I was on the floor. Bobby was huffing and panting madly, his eyes angry and dilated. It was almost like he expected me to move or say something to him, but I weren't gonna temp fate again. Instead I lay were I was at, my eyes closed in dismal fury and pain. And then he stooped down to the floor and picked something up, and I almost opened my eyes and jumped to my feet when I realized that he had the bill that Joel had given me with those beautiful words written across it, but I valued my life too highly to make a try for it. Then, with the muffled stomping of his finding shoes and a jacket, Bobby left the apartment, slamming the door behind him. 

I sat up slowly upon his leaving, my hands gingerly touching where he had hit me. It throbbed sharply, and my fingers came away faintly tinged in blood, so's I know I must have busted a lip of something. God, but it was all right-- I was alive. 

Yet I realized that when he came back, pissing drunk, that may no longer be the case. 

Tonight, I was gonna die. 

Of course I locked the door and all, but I knew that this weren't-- wasn't-- going to do any good. He'd be able to get inside if he really wanted, and I was in frantic activity as I gathered my things together that I had to have, fear spurring me on. I didn't have enough money on me to get a hotel room for the night, and I couldn't stay here with him going crazy around me. He'd kill me for sure, I knew it. 

I was just finishing and getting ready to get the hell out when the door handle turned. 

Oh shit, I thought. Too late. 

"Sallie!" he bellowed through the thin door, his voice slurred and drunk. "Sallie, I want'choo to open this're door right now!" Of course I didn't-- I weren't gonna let him in if I could help it, not for all the money in the world. "Sallie! You open this door, ya bitch! Open the door!" Wood creaked and splintered as he smashed his way inside, and I made a dash for the doorway, hoping that I might be able to squeeze pass his and get on my way to freedom before he noticed that I moved. 

It didn't work that way- I should have knowed that. 

He grabbed me about my waist and slung me to the floor without no effort, his red face glaring down at me. I tried to jump up and try again, but he kicked me hard in the stomach, knocking the air out of me. Then, panting heavily, he sat down across my hips, crushing me to the floor. I could feel the throbbing of his erection through his sweat pants, it's thick length pressed against my side and boring into my stomach. I turned my head as he ripped off my shirt, not wanting to see that ugly face as he leaned forward, breath reeking of alcohol, and took the peek of my small breast between his teeth, tightening the vise-like grip painfully about the sensitive nipple. I cried out in pain and tried to roll away, but this merely made him bite down all the harder, his hips now thrusting harshly against my clothed vagina. His hands fumbled with our clothes, and even though I tried to stop him, to do anything, he soon had us both mostly naked. Three huge fingers thrust inside of me, and I cried out in pain as they ripped against the sensitive walls of my vagina, the friction unbearable. Then the fingers were gone and I had only a moment before he shoved himself into me, his huge tongue thrusting in my mouth as he did so, trying to smother the scream of pain that ripped from within me. 

I tried to turn my head, not wanting his slobbering tongue in my mouth, but he turned his head with me and began to thrust in both places, making me gag as his long tongue plunged down my throat. His hands were wringing roughly at my breasts, twisting them painfully, and I bucked up against him in an effort to make him stop, my teeth tightening suddenly on his tongue. He jerked and pulled his mouth away, his eyes blazing in fury as he slapped me hard across the face, his knuckles making a sharp impact on my already-sore cheek-bone. And then he continued with his rough thrusts, not even trying to keep his mammoth weight from crushing me. 

I had lost the will to fight-- there was nothing I could do, besides. He had the power right now, and all I could do was lean back and try to get as far away as possible in my mind so's I could stay sane. 

Which is how as Bobby grunted and exploded roughly within the torn and bleeding walls of my vagina, I was a million miles away, looking down as a sweet baby suckled at my breast, it's smile broad like it's momma's and it's eyes sweet and dark like it's poppa's. 

He collapsed upon me after he was done, knocking the breath out of my body. The sweet vision of the baby and my loving husband melted away beneath the mountain of the reality, and the hot tears began to form slowly at the corners of my eyes to melt down my face. Damn, damn, damn.... 

Finally, Bobby rolled away and grunted happily, one hand scratching at the sporadic hair along his chest. I sat up stiffly, then stood, hating the way the wetness of his seman seeped between my legs to dribble down my thighs, a sickening mix of red and milky white. I hated him then more than I ever had before, the hate building up inside of me something fierce as I watched him lay there, almost dozing. He knew I wouldn't do anything to him- I was the docile one that could be controlled oh-so-easily. 

Tears pooled down my face as I touched my sore breasts, the skin slowly beginning to blossom black and pitiful. Angry red rings surrounded each nipple, and a faint trickle of blood seeped from the teeth marks. I could hardly see- one eye were swollen so bad, and the other was too filled with hot tears. I hated him-- I wanted to make him _pay_. 

I don't know what took over me then. I know I kept a part of myself 'cause I didn't go for a knife, even though I sorely wanted to. Instead I took an old vase that I had bought from a yard sale; it was huge and hard, more likely to break his skull than to be broken by it. I stood before him for a long moment, the vase clenched between my shaking hands, watching as he settled against the floor in sleep, his snores filling the room. Then, with a strained cry, I pulled back the vase and smashed it down against his face as hard as I could, loving the way that the sound of cracking glass filled the air. He cried out briefly, then after a quick jerk of his body went completely still. Shards of glass covered his face, neck and upper chest, and blood began to pool out fast and thick. I stood before him for what felt like forever, feeling the hate run through me, then I turned and limped towards the closet and got out some clothes to wear. I didn't bother with underclothes-- I couldn't wear them anyways-- and instead slipped on an old button-up shirt and a long skirt, wincing as I did so. Then, after picking up my bag, I walked out of the room, glad to be alive. 

I had, of course, realized that I would have to get out of there before he came in drunk and angry, but I hadn't been able to come up with anywhere to go. I didn't have money for a hotel and I couldn't go to the homeless shelter. The diner was closed and I had no family left to speak of in Cascade. I was alone. 

So's I was pretty surprised when the cabby asked me where to and I gave him an address. It was in the better end of town- not a rich place, mind you, but comfortably middle class. I chewed on my bruised lips every once in awhile, nervous because I had unconsciously given him _Joel's_ address, and part of me wanted to tell him that no, I had made a mistake, please take me back. But I knew-- I _knew_ \-- that Joel would be able to help me. He was a cop, right? He was my... he was my friend. He'd make sure that I was safe. 

I gave the cabby the fare plus a small tip as I got out of the car, my beaten face looking up in awe at the brick building before me. It seemed grand and intimidating to me, like those ancient boarding schools where orphans that were really princesses lived in the attics. I clutched the partially buttoned shirt about me and headed up the stairs, surprised when the outer door opened easily. I had realistically expected it to be locked as were many other apartment complexes, but it seemed like Someone was helping me out here. I prayed that I would be able to make it as I trudged into the entering hall, my eyes catching the call buttons with the names printed so neatly above them. 503. Five flights of stairs to make my screaming body trudge. 

It wasn't until midflight on the second set of stairs that I realized that there was an elevator that actually _worked_ , and I gave a small glad cry as I picked up my steps, barely feeling the pain as I ascended to the second floor and headed towards the elevator. The doors opened almost at once and I stepped inside and leaned against the wall, my eyes closed until the small compartment rang with the shrill ding of the right floor. I staggered forward, one foot automatically stepping in front of the other as I passed by several doors, my eyes fixing on the number 503 with the knowledge that I had almost made it. 

I knocked loudly on the door, my body falling against the door-frame, unwilling to hold me up much longer. I had to make it just a little bit longer, had to just get into his domain, and then I'd be able to pass out. Stars and white specks were dancing in front of my eyes, and I tried to raise my hand to knock again, but I couldn't control my body it seemed. Footsteps sounded and a light filled the crack beneath the door as the sound of a lock unclicking filled the dark hallway, and I cried out a silent prayer of thanksgiving as he opened the door, his sleepy face opening in a startled 'O' as I pulled away from my slumped position against the door-frame, my battered face weary and sick. 

"Joel," I managed before I pitched forward, my legs having gotten me this far and refusing to do no more. To his credit, Joel is awfully fast, and he was able to catch and lift me with very little trouble. I mumbled something along the lines of 'sorry, sorry' as he carried me into his living room, but in my heart I was glad, 'cause finally I was safe. 

He didn't make me explain that night-- I don't really think he needed no explaination, 'cause I could see the sad understanding lighting his face when I cried out in pain as he placed me gently upon the bed. At first I tried to protest, to tell him I was dirty and didn't need to be on his bed, but he shushed me with a gentle 'shhh...' and set about making me as comfortalbe as he could. He carefully washed and bandaged my face and hands, but when he asked in a low tone if I was hurt anywhere else, I shook my head in denial. I knowed that he didn't believe me; he probably knew _exactly_ where I hurt the most, but he didn't make me tell him. As I figgur it, he decided that it was a private matter that he shouldn't barge into unless I asked him. Instead he left the water and ointments and ice on the bedside table and said that he was going to be in the next room in case I needed anything. I nodded softly, tears threatening at how gentle he was being, and I watched him with love shining bright from my eyes as he turned, tugging at the old brown robe that he wore, and headed out of the room, shutting the door most of the way but leaving a small crack so's I didn't get lonely. 

I lay awake for a few brief moments, wondering how I could be so badly hurt an still feel so good inside, but eventually my eyes began to droop and exaustion won out over me, sending me spiraling down into the darkness of sleep. 

I woke up in the early hours of dawn, a strange sense of peace washing over me. It's not like waking up when you don't know where you are; I knew at once that I was in Joel's appartment in Joel's bed, and the wondering tighness of my heart was sucha wonderful feeling that I never wanted to leave. But I knowed-- knew-- that I had to go, 'cause no problems were ever solved by running away from them, and there was a lot that I had to do to make things right. Besides, I don't like being beholden to no-body, and even though it was Joel.... 

No, _especially_ because it was Joel. I didn't want to come to him weak and out of control. I was better than that. 

It hurt like three kinds of hell to get out of bed, and I was hard pressed to hold back the groan that threatened to break free, but somehow I made it to my feet. My bag was lying beside the bed, and I lifted it up and picked my way through the piles of stuff-- not a meticulouse man, my Joel. 

Or maybe he just needed a woman's touch. 

The door from his room opened silently, and I crept out of the room and over to the couch where he was sleeping peacfully. He was turned over on his side, his mouth opened partially, and a soft noise arose from him as he slept. I wanted so bad to touch his face and kiss his parted lips, but I didn't dare wake him up, so instead I kissed my fingers and ket them briefly brush across his hair, loving the way the tight curls felt against my sensitized fingertips. Then, with one backwards glance, I left the apartment. 

I had enough money to take a taxi wherever I wanted to go, but I decided that it would be best for me to walk and try to loosen up my sore muscles. I didn't really have a location in mind-- I was just getting out and about so's I could try to figure out what I had to do. 

I obviously couldn't press charges against Bobby. He'd be pissed-mad and would probably never let me be if I did that. On the other hand, he probably wouldn't press charges against me, seeing as I would most likely win if we went to court. He _did_ beat and rape me, after all, and even though I'd get some trouble for smashing the vase across his head, he'd get more for doing that to me. It was also obviouse that I had to go back to the apartment, 'cause I had left some things there. Besides, it was my _home_ and I had no-where else to stay. Most likely, Bobby was long-gone by now. He was alway the cowardly type, and my lashing out would have scared him to the high hills. 

But for now, I couldn't do either. There was every possibility that he was still there, knocked out or asleep, and I didn't want to have to run into him at any point. So, instead, I headed towards the diner, knowing that it hadn't opened quite yet, but not knowing where else I could go at such an hour. I tredged along the almost-empty streets, my body aching from strain, and several of the cuts reopened and began to bleed. It took a mighty long time to finally get there, but time had begun to run together by that point so's I almost didn't notice when I was standing before the dark building. I looked up at it stupidly for a moment, then headed out towards the side where I would be able to lie in the fairly clean doorway. I slowly lowered myself to the ground, not caring to muffle the heart-felt groan of agony that ripped through my female parts as I shifted, then I closed my eyes and willed the world to go away. 

I wasn't aware that I actually slept out there, but I must have because the next thing I knew my name was being called and hands were tugging at me. I groaned and opened my eyes blearilly, wincing at the pain that rippled through my body. 

"Shoo, girl, what happend to you?" Frank was looking down at me with worry and horror crossing his face, and I struggled up to me feet, using the door as a bolster. "Nah, I think I can guess. Ah, shit Sallie, you should have left him long ago if he did the likes of this to you," he commented wisely, unlocking the door and ushering me in. "Why don't you grab a washcloth and clean up in the bathroom. I'll go put on some coffee for you." 

I nodded thankfully and headed out to do as he said, glad at the opportunity to fianlly remove the crusted seman that flaked between my legs. I was sore but not bleeding down there anymore, and I supposed this to be a blessing. I don't know how much bleeding a girl can take down in her nether regions, but I didn't think it was much. The rough washcloth stung my body where it scraped acorss the wounds, but I just bit my tongue and continued to wipe it across my skin, knowing that I would be glad later for the cleanliness. 

Frank was as good as his word, and as I was coming out of the bathroom, he was just pouring two cups of steaming coffee. "Hope this doesn't hurt your lip too much," he said as he handed one of the mugs over to me, his deep-set old eyes peering at me critically. "You sure took a whupping, didn't you girl?" 

I nodded polightly, knowing that he didn't really expect an answer to that but wantimg to do something none-the-less. Dawn had broken over the city and cars were just beginning to carry relucant members of the human race to work. Soon the diner would be opening and I would be heading back to my place to re-group, but first I wanted to enjoy this rare moment of silence with the eternally busy man who had long ago taken me under his wing. 

We made light converstion for about fifteen minutes or so, neither of us mentioning what had happned again. It felt real good to be just talkng to someone for a bit, but I wasn't really dissapointed when he looked down at his watch and said he'd better get on to work. I had gathered my courage and would be able to face Bobby-- if he hadn't scampered away yet. It was strange to feel so srong and competant, but I liked the feeling of power that runned through me. It was wonderful. 

Frank, in a rare moment of gebtleness, offered to pay cab fare for me, but I said that I'd take care of it. I didn't want to be beholden- not now. Besides, I had enough money to take care of it, so's it wasn't a problem. 

The feeling of power lasted right about 'til I began up the long flights to my apartment. As I neared my hallway, uncertainty and fear began to go through my body. What if he was still here-- what would I do? I didn't really think this through at all. I just... came, and I was beginning to think that it was a stupid mistake on my part. But I didn't turn back; I couldn't turn back, not even if I was dying to. My feet kept on one in front of the other as I neared my shattered doorway and stepped across the threshold, my eyes scating over the wreck that had been my apartment. 

Bobby had been obviously angry when he had woken up in a pool of blood on the floor, 'cause almost everything in the room was smashed or shattered. Even the poor, pathetic television was in pieces on the floor, and a ghost of a smile crossed my lips as I recognized the pettiness of the situation. 

And then he stumbled through the other doorway, and the smile faded right fast. 

"So you came back for more, bitch," he spat out from the ruin of his face. Deep cuts ran across the fleshy blackness, and I couldn't help but think he looked more like rotten meat than man. He took a step forward, trying to be intimidating, but I merely crossed my arms and stared at him blankly, no longer afraid. I had done this to him-- there weren't nothing he could do to hurt me any more. 

But I should have knowed better. Bobby's always been a mean one, and I shoulda knowed that he would be in a rage over what I had done to him. My eyes gaped open as he pulled his hand from behind his back, grinning wickedly as my gaze fixed on the shining blade of the kitchen knife. I wanted to turn and run, but I didn't dare-- he was much faster than me and, besides, he was as good at throwing that thing as he was gutting animals with it. I had noticed his skills before and had comented on them, but he had only made some non-commital statement about boyhood and wanting to be a Marine. 

"Yeah, you bitch," he crooned as he stepped forward again, "you see what I've got for ya. I don't take with crazy bitches knocking in my face, and you're gonna _pay_ for hurting me." He was getting close now, so close that I could smell the thick odor wafting off of him, and I had to force myself to stay still and not run. If I ran, he would surely hurt me, but if I stood, subserviant.... Mabe it wouldn't be so bad. 

"I'm going to slowly gut ya, from pussy to neck, and let your organs pool out onto the floor." Or, maybe not moving wouldn't help any. I closed my eyes as the shining blade touched my throat and trailed down, leaving a sharp heat in it's wake. Blood began to pool out slowly, and I swallowed a whimper, fear making me weak. "Yeah, cunt, I want you to _cry_ " he whispered, his manical eyes gleaming. "And then I want you to _die_. I'm gonna...." 

"Drop the knife." The voice was low and dangerouse, filled with authority, and it was all I could do not to jerk up in hope at it's origin. The knife was still pressed against me, but Bobby was looking up now, his raw meat face scowling. 

"Fuck you, piggy. You ain't gonna stop me from...." The sound of a bullet discharging was deafening, and Bobby gave a strangled cry as he dropped to the floor, his body cradling his shoulder protectively, the knife falling from his grasp. I looked over towards Joel Taggart thankfully, my eyes filling with tears as he lowered the gun and looked at me with those dark, soulfull eyes. 

"You okay?" 

I didn't get a chance to answer 'cause others were running into the room. First came the big built one, Jim, followed close behind by his partner and, I reckoned, lover. He paused at the threshold, taking in the smoking gun and the hard-faced cop as well as the screeching form of my would-be attacker. "Did you give warning?" he asked as he knelt by the cringing and crying man, carefully handcuffing him and lifting him to his feet. Rafe and Henri came running in, adding to the confusion, and Blair pipped in a sudden, 

"I heard him give warning, Jim. Loud and clear." The two exchanged a long look, and Blair laid a hand on the older man's arm as if to say, please, just go along. 

Finally, Jim nodded and thrust Bobby towards the confused Rafe. "Take him to the hospital and make sure that he gets put up on charges. We'll take care of everything here." The other man nodded, not bothering to ask what happened as he tugged the weeping form out of the room. Henri followed with a philisophical shrug, casting one look at me as he headed out after his partner. 

Jim Ellison sood there for a moment, his eyes closed and his face concentrated. Then, with a slight nodd, he turned to me and Joel. "Are you going to press charges against him?" he asked in a world-weary tone, and I began to shake my head no. I _knew_ that it would turn out no good. Then I became aware of a hand on my shoulder, and I turned my head to see Joel standing there behind me, face warm yet stern, as if he would be able to protect me from everything bad in the world. And you know what? I believed him. 

"Yes. I'm gonna press charges." The words came out haltingly,as if I had to force them past my lips, and the detective nodded briefly and then turned his attention to Blair. 

"Let's get you out of here, Sallie," Blair said soothingly, taking my elbow and leading me towards the door. Jim stood back, his eyes catching Joel's, and I knew that Joel was in deep trouble for doing what he did. I wanted to stay back and defend him, but Blair was adamant that I go to the hospital, so I let myself be guided out of the room and past all of the curiouse faces down my hall, praying that Joel wouldn't face the fires for me. 

The doctors were clinical and compassionate at the same time, and Blair stayed with me for the most part, his head turned away as I endured the greatest of shame, telling me stories to keep my mind from off the pain and embarrassment. I listened to his words avidly, needing something to hold on to, and I noticed how his entire face would soften when he spoke of Jim. I had suspected for some time that they were lovers, but now with the proof before me, I felt myself begin to smile. Praise God they had found one another. 

Eventually, the doctors were through with me and the cops took over. Captain Banks was there, as well as most of the other cops that worked with Detective Ellison. I was questioned and re-questioned about what happened, the only thing keeping me together being Joel's quiet presence next to me. It seems like he almost adopted me as his charge or him as my protector or something, because he didn't stir from my side the entire time I had to answer the difficult questions. 

It ended with them saying that Bobby would have to be released soon, and did I have a safe place to stay until the trial? Of course I didn't, all I had was my shattered apartment, and the dismay that covered their cop faces was almost humorous. Well, if it wasn't my life on the line that is. 

"She can stay with me," Joel said, interrupting the silence. Eyes turned to look at him, including mine, and he added, "She'd be safer there anyway. I'd be able to afford some protection, and my apartment complex is pretty secure." I didn't point out how easily I had gotten into his 'secure' complex, but only because I didn't want to argue against him. The thought of staying with Joel made me feel safe and protected already. Yeah, I liked the idea. I liked it a _whole_ lot. 

There was some more discussion on the topic, but eventually all those that was against the idea caved in, and it became settled: I was gonna stay with Joel until the trial. 

The doctors finally cut me lose, giving me tons of medication and warnings, and I nodded along a bit sleepily, the drugs that I had already been given making me tired. Joel drove us to his home, and car was silent as we made our way down the highway, me because I was dog-tired and him probably because he was being respectful. What a man. 

He helped me out of the car, his large yet gentle hands careful not to press against a tender bruise. I had the wild impulse to lean forward and kiss his broad nose, but I held myself back, knowing that he'd probably flip if I did. Ah, well. Maybe another time. 

His apartment was just how I remembered it: slightly messy and disorganized but homey. I could see his personality in the walls about me, and this constant reminder made me feel safe and warm. Nothing bad could happen to me here. 

"Would you like some supper?" He wasn't quite at ease, as if he weren't-- wasn't-- sure exactly what he was supposed to do with me, and this reminder that he was probably as uncomfortable as me calmed me right down. 

"Sure, that sounds good," I replied, and I was telling the strict truth. It had been hours since I had last had food in me, besides the horrid hospital swill that they had forced me to eat. In fact, I was surprised at how near dinner-time it really was-- those investigations and proddings had sure taken a bunch of time. 

"All right, then why don't you sit down, and I'll see what I can find," Joel continued as he moved into the kitchen. He didn't seem to know his way around perfectly, almost as if he didn't cook for himself very often. Which, I suppose, bears a lot of truth considering that he often ate at the diner. Suddenly, I found myself wondering if he ever had a home-cooked meal since he left home as a boy. Or even then... you never know what type of family someone comes from. Which, actually, made me want to find out. I wanted to know everything I could about him. 

Dinner ended up being a warmed up piece of bread and a bowl of raman noodles. Joel looked apologetic as he explained that he often didn't get a chance to entertain guests, and I assured him that it was fine. He was kinda fidgety and all, like he didn't know what to do next. When I was done with my noodles, he took the bowl and placed it in the sink with a small pile of other dishes then turned to look at me. 

"So, Sallie," he began, and I gave a small kinda-smile. I would've done a bit more if it didn't hurt so bad, but I did want to encourage him to talk if I could. "Are you tired?" I shook my head, even though I really was prettysleepy, but this was such a new experience that I didn't want to close my eyes and miss a minute of it. "All right...." He looked so adorable standing there, his black brows pulled slightly together as he tried to figure out a way to keep me entertained. I almost told him that he didn't have to entertain me, I was enjoying myself just watching him, but I knew that I would never be able to be so forward. It just weren't in me to say something like that. So, instead, I tilted my head and waited for him to come up with something. 

"You want to watch a movie?" He seemed to be searching for something, but I found the idea particularly appealing. In the dark, the flickering of the screen, both of us sitting on the couch.... It sounded good to me. 

"Okay." I couldn't say much more because of the strain to talk around the swelling of my mouth and jaw, but I made sure that he read my interest in my bright blue eyes. Joel nodded and let me go before him to the couch. While I settled into a comfortable position (understandably hard to do) he started searching amongst some tapes that were housed in a slightly dusty wooden cabinet. 

"Hmm.... Well, I've got some old war movies, Saving Private Ryan, The English Patient, Fallen, Sabrina...." I motioned at that one, indicating interest. "Sabrina? All right, Sabrina it is." He pulled out the tape and pushed it into the VCR, turning on the television with a flick of a switch. It seemed kinda odd but fitting that he would have something like Sabrina. I had seen it years ago, and I had loved the story, as well as the actors. Audrey Hepburn was brilliant, and I had really felt like the character, the daughter of no-one important falling in love with someone beyond her reach. 

Joel settled down next to me on the couch and we began the movie. I must admit, though, I didn't really watch the plot all that avidly. Too much of my time was spent breathing in the dark, sweet scent of him and looking at him out of the corner of my eyes. The flickering light of the black-and-white show cast a strange light on his round black face, and I fought back the urge to touch his cheeks and see if they were as smooth as they appeared. 

After the movie had finished, Joel tried insisting that I sleep on the bed again, but I wouldn't hear none of it. This was his apartment, after all, and I was the guest in his home. Finally, I won, and he made sure that I was comfortable before he headed off towards his own room and bed. As he turned out the lights, he looked down at me for one long moment, a smile breaking across his face. "Good night, Sallie," he said, reaching out impulsively to tuck the blanket tighter around me. "Sweet dreams." 

I smiled back and echoed the words, but my head was filled with other thoughts. 

In your home, how can my dreams be other than sweet? 

I woke up early in the morning, as is my habit. This time, I was a bit disoriented at first, but as I noticed the comfort of the furniture and the simple elegance of the decorating, I slowly began to realize that I was in Joel Taggart's home. I was, in fact, going to be in his home for quite a while to come, at least until after the trial had locked Bobby away for good. 

Oh, God is so good! 

I couldn't quite bound off of the couch as most of my body seemed pretty hell-bent on screaming miserably, but I did manage a rather energetic hop as I got up and looked around the room. It was sometime after five am, and how I figured it, Joel would be waking up to head to work at about six. That gave me plenty of time to take in stock. 

I went to the kitchen and riffled around for a bit, shocked at the lack of food. There was almost nothing there except for some odds and ends. Well, I wasn't raised to be anything if not inventive when it came to cutting corners, so I would find a way to get a breakfast fit for kings prepared out of... almost nothing. Hmm.... 

Eventually, I found a few necessities and was able to begin a rather descent breakfast. There was pancake batter, but no syrup or butter, and a frozen hamburger patty that had probably been there for quite a while. It was a long shot, but how I figured it, I could make something at least passably good. 

While the food was baking (I had added flour to the batter and rolled spiced ground chuck within balls of dough) I pulled on some clothes and went to visit the neighbors. I have to admit, the woman who answered the door looked rather shocked to see me (I must have looked a sight) but she let me borrow some milk and orange juice without a word. Her eyes almost fell out of her head, however, when I thanked her greatly and went into Joel's apartment. I thought she was going to have a heart attack! 

By the time Joel finally began to stir, I had a pretty good breakfast set up-- the biscuit and meat rolls were slightly spicy and pretty good if I say so, each place had a glass of milk and a glass of orange juice, and I had managed to find a perfectly good apple which I had sliced and put on a plate in between the mats that I had scourged up from the depths of a cabinet. Coffee was just finishing as Joel came out of his room, his sleepy eyes widening as he saw the table. 

He looked at the table and then at me, a wry smile forming along his lips. "You didn't have to cook for me, Sallie," he said gently, but he sat at his place anyways, and I could tell that he was rather touched by what I had done. 

"I know I don't have to," I said, joining him at the table with two steaming mugs, "but I wanted to. It's something I can do, you know?" 

He smiled at me then, a big, happy smile, and even though it still hurt, I couldn't keep myself from grinning back at him. If making him breakfast made him feel special, I began to wonder what else I could do for him. 

"By the way," he added after we had blessed the food, "where did you get the OJ and milk? I didn't know I had any." He seemed puzzled, as if he thought I maybe magicked them out of thin air. 

"Oh," I answered, and my voice was so off-hand that I'm really ashamed of myself. "I borrowed them from your neighbor." 

Joel almost gagged on a huge gulp of juice, and I patted his back helpfully, silently yelling at myself for waiting until he had something in his mouth. I _knew_ that this'd happen! "You... went to... my neighbors?" Joel choked out, his eyes wide. At my nod, his sunshiny grin broke out and he barked out a laugh, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Oh, goodness, I wonder what Mrs. Halloway thinks is going on?" he chuckled, one hand reaching out to wipe away a tear. 

"Who knows," I offered. I waited patiently for him to swallow before I added, "I hope she's not fanatically religious, or you may get lectured about 'living in sin.'" He laughed again, and it felt so good to be able to hear it and know that _I_ was the one that caused it. Me, Sallie, had made Joel smile. 

We finished breakfast and he got his things together for work. It was a real nice time, 'cause he talked to me and told me stories about when he was a little boy. I loved listening to him tell about himself so much that when it was finally time for him to leave, I was bitterly disappointed. "You're going to be safe here," he informed me as he headed towards the door. "Mr. McCleer is still in custody, so you've got nothing to worry about. Officers will go by your house later today to pick up anything that you may need. All right?" It was so sweet of him to be worried for me. 

"I'll be fine," I assured him, smiling slightly. "You have a good day at work." He nodded, beaming, and I wondered suddenly if he ever had anyone to take care of him. It struck me as sad that he probably hadn't, or, at least, not for a long time. He deserved it more than any man ever created. 

Well, I'd have to take care of him, then. 

I stood in the doorway and watched him until he got on the elevator. He waved as the doors closed before him, and I waved back, feeling wifely and domesticated. It was a wonderful feeling to have, I must admit. 

And then I went back inside the door after I smiled and helloed his neighbor, who had just so happened to have opened the door in time to see our good-byes. For a moment, she just looked at me, then she beamed toothily, and as I closed the door I heard a muttered "It's about time." 

Then I leaned against the door and looked around the apartment. There was a lot to be done and only (I checked a clock that was slightly off) nine hours to do it in. 

I'd better get cracking. 

I had everything ready for when Joel returned. 

At first I had been a little hesitant to begin cleaning a house that wasn't mine. I mean, it weren't exactly like he gave me the go ahead on it-- he didn't even know what I was planning to do. But as I moved around and saw the sorry state everything was in (bachelor houses have a tendency to be that way) I couldn't keep myself from it. I cleaned that house like there was gonna be no tomorrow, and then I cleaned some more. The only place that I held sacred was his drawers and things. But everything else.... 

I was shocked at the absence of any cleaning products, so at about eleven I went out to the store. I got a lot of stares as I went down the street, 'cause I musta looked like a poster girl for abused wives, but I merely smiled and waved cheerfully, showing them all how happy I was. A couple of people smiled back, and that made me feel good. 

The grocer on Joel's street was a nice old man that kinda put you in mind of a television grandfather. He clucked at worried over me when I came in and insisted on getting on of his 'boys' to do all the shopping for me. All I had to do was sit there with a glass of lemonade and shout out the things that I wanted. It felt a little odd to be treated so respectfully and all, especially since I was wearing old worn clothes and looked like I had an unfortunate run-in with a bulldozer. The man didn't pry, but I could tell that he was mighty curious, so I asked him if he knew Joel. 

"Joel Taggart? Well, I suppose that I do. He doesn't come in here very often, but when he does we try to see what we can do for him." 

"Do you know what his favorite foods are?" I wanted to have something real special waiting for him tonight. 

The old man looked at me with wondering eyes for a long moment, and I began to think he wasn't gonna answer, but then his face split into a huge grin and he said, "I sure do. Sam!" he called for one of his over-grown 'boys.' "There's something I want you to add to that list there." He kept on grinning at me for the rest of the shopping excursion, and when I was finally on my way with one of the boys following behind me and carrying the groceries, I heard him say, "It sure is about time." 

Was everybody trying to play matchmaker for Joel? 

I thanked the boy-- or, really, man-- and tried to give him some money, but he wouldn't have none of it. "You just get on with what you're doing," he grinned jovially at me. "That's good enough for me." Well, I thanked him and he went on his way and I continued with my work. 

By the time I heard the key in the lock at around 5:23, I had everything finished. The house had, to my surprise, cleaned up beautifully. I could see the taste in the decorating, and I began to wonder if Joel maybe had some help choosing out pictures and matching sets of chairs or if he was just different from most males. Food was warming in the oven-- baked chicken, home-made mashed potatoes with chives, and a fresh salad were for dinner-- and I had managed to clean up and look, if not exactly presentable, at least better than I had. 

His surprised face was one of the funniest things that I had ever seen. His mouth dropped open to form an 'O' and his eyebrows shot up into his forehead. He stood there for a moment in shock as I came forward and gently propelled him into the room. 

"How was your day?" I asked as I helped him out of his coat. He didn't seem to be able to answer me, so I kept talking as I smoothed out the shoulders and neatly hung it on the rack beside the door. "I got to meet some of your neighbors briefly." They had been stopping in to say 'hi' for several hours now-- it was a wonder I was able to finish everything. "They seem very nice. Dinner will be ready in about five minutes, so why don't you go and wash your hands and maybe change into something more comfortable? I'll be setting out the table." He stared at me as if I had lost my mind, then with a small nod headed back into his bedroom. 

I wanted to giggle so bad, but I kept that impulse to myself. Lord, but he was cute when he was confused! For my own part, I felt wonderful. I love being able to take care of someone, and now that I've gotten the chance to take care of a body that actually _deserves_ it-- well, let's say I was in Susie-Homemaker Heaven. 

He came back into the small dining room just as I was laying the food out. "Good. Now, you sit down and I'll be with you in a moment," I said as I began to untie the apron. I folded it and hung it on a kitchen rack then washed my hands good. Joel was sitting where I had instructed him, and I smiled as I took my own seat across from him. "Shall I say the blessing?" He nodded a 'go ahead' so I closed my eyes and bowed my head and began "God is great...." 

When I finished, I reached for my cloth napkin and laid it in my lap. "So, Joel, you didn't tell me how your day went." 

"You didn't have to do this, Sallie." He was looking at me with serious eyes, as if he were making sure that I understood him. "I mean," he continued, "I don't want you to feel like you have to...." 

"I know that, Joel," I interrupted quietly. He was looking at me in such a way that made my heart just want to melt. Again, I had the awful thought, hadn't no-one ever taken care of him before? "But I want to do this for you." I motioned to the beautiful rooms and the food. "It's what I do-- it's a part of who I am. I just...." I faltered, not sure that I had the courage to go on. Finally, the swallowed and just spit it out. "I just want to see you happy, Joel." 

His face was so sweet and so touched that I almost burst into tears. I believe that he _was_ crying, just a little bit, 'cause his eyes got awfully shiny as he laid one large hand over mine and said "Thanks." 

And then we started into dinner, and I got a full recounting of how his day went. It seemed dangerous and awfully exciting, and I was literally on the edge of my seat listening to him recount it. After dinner, we washed the dished together, and I felt like a girl again when I dabbed the white suds on his nose and cheeks. He puffed out his now-white cheeks and made funny faces, and I laughed hard enough to hurt. 

Afterwards, we retired to the living room, where he read the paper and I read one of his old books. It was a collection of children's stories, by the Grimm boys, and I must admit that I was delighted by how beautiful yet terrifying they were. We read in companionable silence until around 10:30, when we both headed off to bed. At first it felt kinda weird _not_ to go into his room with him to go to sleep, and I think he felt it, too. For a couple of hours there, we had become husband and wife, and now we were jarred back into the reality. 

He bid me a shy good-night and headed into his room, leaving me alone in the gathered darkness of the living room, smiling softly to myself. 

I slept like a bear in winter, warm and cozy, until the phone began to ring. At first, as I started awake, I was disoriented. What was that noise? But eventually I realized what it was-- as well as the time-- and I grew a bit irritated. They could wake up Joel with all that racket! I hopped off of the couch and headed towards the phone, lifting it up against my shoulder before I held it to my ear and said, "Hello?" 

At first there weren't nothing but silence, and I had almost hung it up when I heard the raspy voice go, "Sallie." 

Now I knew at once who it was that was calling me. It was Bobby, and there weren't no two ways about it. At first I was frightened-- how did he know where to find me?-- but then I became pissed. He was ruining my carefully-made home! "Yeah, Bobby, this is Sallie, but I ain't gonna talk to you anymore. I don't have to listen to you!" 

"Sallie, it's gonna feel good when I gut you with my bowie knife. I'm gonna drink your blood as it pours out of you and chomp on your eyeballs when they roll out of your ugly little head. Then, just before you finally die, I'm going to thrust on into you and make you scream...." 

I was shaking now-- I didn't doubt that he would do something like that, the sick bastard that he was. My entire body was trembling fit to die, and I tried to say something brave and collected, like he didn't affect me at all, but I couldn't force the words past my throat. I was so scared.... 

And then a gentle hand was taking the phone away from me, and Joel spoke into the receiver. "Do you know who this is, Mr. McCleer? I'm Joel Taggart, and I swear to you that if you try to hurt or frighten Sallie, I'll personally take great pleasure in blowing your ass out through your God-awful face, you got that?" He said it so calm and collected, like it weren't a threat, but more like'n a promise. Then he, cool as a cucumber, hung up the phone and turned to me. "You okay?" I couldn't answer him, could only tremble and nod my head. It had shaken me something bad that he had been able to track me down here, and I weren't sure that I would be able to feel safe again. 

And then Joel moved forward and wrapped me up tight in his arms, one hand pressing my head down onto his shoulder. I went along willingly, burrowing my nose into the juncture of his shoulder and neck and breathing deeply. I wasn't aware that I was crying until he began to croon softly to me, "Don't cry, Sallie. Shhh, don't cry, I'm here. I'm here." But that only made me cry the more, cry for gladness, and I hugged myself tight to him as he stroked his fingers through my mousy brown hair. 

Oh, I was so wrong. Not even the Devil himself could make me feel not safe within his arms. 

The next morning, it was Joel who had a surprise for me. 

"How about we play hooky today?" I looked up over the breakfast table at him, my face a question. He laughed deeply at my expression, his dark eyes shining merrily. "I just have to stop by the office today and then we can have the entire day off. I've got enough leave time coming to me that they owe me this." He took a long gulp of his apple juice, and I smiled tentatively, the idea of a full day with Joel.... 

"Okay," I mummered assent, a smile lurking at the corners of my mouth. "That sounds good." 

"Great!" He clasped his hands loudly, rubbing them together in an antis... antic... an eager fashion. "Then I'll go get dressed and we can head down to the station." He stood up and picked up his plate to take it to the sink. After disposing of the left-over food, he rinsed the dish thoroughly, even running a wash cloth over it, and put it in a neat pile with the other breakfast dishes. 

Hmm... he learns quickly. 

The rest of our day was a mix of the wonderful and horrid. First we went to the Cascade Police Department, and while Joel was taking care of his business, I got a chance to talk with Blair and Megan. I admit, I was a bit uncomfortable talking to the red-head, but she really was pretty nice, so's she didn't make me feel too undereducated. And Blair is Blair, no two ways around it. 

The horrid part was when I heard when the trial was gonna be. 

"Two days? Blair, it can't be in two days-- the legal system _never_ goes that fast!" 

Blair looked right pitying on me, like he knew how hard this was going to be on me. "I'm sorry, Sallie, but it's been moved up quick because of a connection McCleer's lawyer has with the Judge. But it'll be a good thing- you'll see. That means that you'll get it over with." 

It was all well and good for him to be saying things like that to me 'cause he ain't the one who had to be speaking about being raped by his own boyfriend. Ah, shit. 

Well, I thought that after that, my day would be ruined, but I should have learned by now not to underestimate Joel Taggart. He seemed to know that I was down in the mouth because of the news, so he tried his darndest to make me smile and laugh all day long. And his darndest was good enough to make me one of the happiest girls in Cascade-- even the pretty ones couldn't beat me that day. First we went along the strip of shops, just looking around, but Joel showed a rather different side when he grabbed my hand and pulled me to a movie theater. Now, it's been a coon's age since I've seen a movie in an actual theater, so I had no real preference, you know? So Joel decides that I'll like this movie called 'Tarzan' the best, and I try to tell him that I've seen 'Tarzan' before, but he keeps saying that I hadn't seen this one. So we went in, and it weren't a movie at all! It was a cartoon, but it was such a cute and moving cartoon that I was almost near tears. It was wonderful! 

Then we went out to lunch at a little cafe, and Joel and I talked for a long time about basically nothing. I mean, we told about our lives and our beliefs and all, but it was a general lovely conversation. 

And then he took me to the woods where he showed me an absolutely beautiful clearing. The trees formed a kinda canopy, making the sunlight dapple across the moss-covered ground. I had never seen something so beautiful in my entire life, and we stood there in silence for a long time, just taking in the incredible beauty of it all. Then he looked over at me, and his eyes were soft and focused and I swore that he was going to kiss me then. I waited in fluttery anticipation, hoping that he would while dreading it at the same time. But he looked away after a while, and the moment was gone. 

Yet still.... And absolutely beautiful day. 

The next morning I got a call from Megan, of all people. She said that Joel had asked her to take me shopping 'cause I had to go to court like I was going to a church service-- dressy and on my best behavior. I weren't-- wasn't-- sure what to expect from an afternoon with her. She was, after all, very smart and very, very pretty. What if she thought I was nothing but a plain-looking country bumpkin or something? I mean, I had talked to her before, but never for an entire afternoon. What do you say to someone like her? 

Well, I learned the answer to that mighty quick. 

You say _anything_. 

She _was_ smart and she _was_ pretty, but she was also nice and pretty unpredictable. And funny. She had me rolling at her wry humor spoken in that strange voice almost all the time. Shopping with her was an interesting experience all to itself- I don't think I'll ever do anything that will be on quite that level. I mean, I was pretty happy to just go to Wal-Mart or something and pick out an outfit, but she carted me around all over looking for things to wear. I didn't have much money on me, and I told her so, but she kept saying that it was 'all taken care of.' Now, naturally I wanted to know who took care of it 'cause I don't want to own nobody nothing, but she just kept smiling and said not to worry. So, eventually, after the fourth store that didn't have anything that looked right on my silly frame, I decided to let it go. 

Now, God is great and He's one smart guy, but when He made me, something must've gone wrong. Either that, or He's got a greater sense of humor that I thought, 'cause my body is nothing if not strange. I was practically born tall-- I'm 5'11 now-- and am so skinny that all my life I endured comparisons to a toothpick or, even worse, a beanstalk. Now let me tell you, it don't do anyone's esteem no good to be likened to a string bean. Not only are they awfully ungainly vegetables, but their knotty and green and.... Well, I just don't take to it. 

And I always hated when people would look at what I was eating and say 'That all?' like I didn't know for myself how hungry I was. So, naturally, it's always been hard for me to find skirts that didn't come to my calves and hang funny at my hardly-there hips. And my breasts, or lack there-of, have always been an amusement to boys and girls everywhere. Is it not enough that my legs and arms are too long and my nose is thin and pointy and my hair gets stringy in the summer... do I have to be a bean with nipples, too? 

Well, even if God's got a sense of humor, I'm surely not laughing. 

Finally, though, at the seventh shop we went to, Megan finally found a dress that she said would 'suit me just fine.' It was a white slip-thingie with a white net-dress over it. It was small (actually, it was a size five so it was smaller by far than I usually get, but Megan said I should show off my-- non-existent-- figure) but long, so I didn't have to worry about looking gangly. I also got some pretty sapphire (fake, or course) ear-bobs and hair-clips, as well as a drop necklace and white sandals. I felt a little silly but very glamorous when I put it on, and since Megan said it looked good on me.... Well, after looking at her, who am I to disagree? 

Joel was home before I was that night, and he had dinner waiting for me on the table. He grinned as I walked in with my bags, his eyes lighting up in curiosity, but I didn't let him take a peek. 

"How was your day?" He waited for me to sit before he sat down across from me, showing a very gentlemanly concern. 

"It was very long, but interesting," I replied as I spread the napkin before me. He had fixed steak and new potatoes, and even though the meat was a bit over-done, I recognized the effort that he had made to cook for me. 

"Did you find a dress?" Aha, I knew he was up to something. My eyes glimmered back at him knowingly, and I smiled a secretive smile that must've answered his questioned, 'cause he replied with "May I see it?" 

I shook my head 'no' and began to eat, laughing inside as he faked being put out. There was absolutely nothing that I didn't love about this man. 

And I was starting to think that he knew it, too. 

I couldn't go to sleep that night for fear. The very next day, I'd have to face Bobby again, and I didn't think I was ready to go before all those people and tell what had happened to me. It weren't so much the actual rape that bothered me-- I had gone through all _that_ before-- but more of the realization that I'd have to speak about it. If you keep it inside of you, you learn to deal with it and move on. But if you have to tell it... if you have to dredge it up.... 

It weren't no surprise that around three in the morning I found myself kneeling before the toilet, losing my dinner within the white ceramic bowl. My stomach was so tied in knots that I could barely straighten them out, and I kept heaving pitifully long after everything had left me, tears beginning to leak down my face. 

I started up in surprise when I felt his cool hands touch my face, the thick fingers smoothing back my hair and lifting the long strands off my neck. I closed my eyes and leaned my forehead against the cold rim of the toilet, just sitting there and feeling his breath blowing cool against my neck and shoulders. Then, after I had begun to calm down, he pulled me back into his lap, wrapping his arms about me in a protective vice, his low voice almost breaking as he sang to me. I don't know why he sang, or even what. I was just lost in the deep rasping of his dark voice, lulled by the calm wonder of it. 

Soon, I dropped my head against his chest and closed my eyes, my hands reaching out to clutch childishly at his night-shirt as I snuggled deeper within his arms. He kept singing, the soft thrum of his voice echoing deeply within my own body as I slowly, painlessly slipped into sleep. 

I awoke on my usual couch, covered carefully in blankets. At first I just lay there and soaked in the day, not really caring to get up and ruin my good mood. But, as the awareness of time going on by caught me, I swung my legs over the side of the couch and stood. 

I had to be at the court-house at ten o'clock that very morning, and it was already seven. I felt kinda groggy and out of spirits-- being sick 'till three am will do that to you-- but I knew that I had the chipper on up or the day would be even worse for me. I went about fixing blueberry pancakes ('cause they were easy to make) and Joel lumbered into the kitchen at some point in the making to help me. I must confess, I was so out in my own world that I didn't even notice he was there until he scooted by me to get the cakes that I was about to burnt. He didn't say anything about it, though; he just took them off the skillet and put on another batch just as cool as you please. I felt kinda silly to be drifting like that. I mean, it was just a trial- it weren't-- wasn't-- like my life were about to end. 

Eventually, Joel just led me to a chair and sat me down, telling me that he would take care of all the cooking today. Now, usually I would have protested. I mean, I kinda feel like it's _my_ duty to clean up and cook and all, but today I was just so plumb tired and nervous and scared that I let him do everything all by himself. 

After the breakfast dishes had been done, it was time to start getting ready to go. I took a sinfully long shower, closing my eyes and leaning my head against the cool tiles while the water ran cold around me. It felt soothing and up-lifting, and as I stepped from the shower I felt like a completely different person. I was determined that I was gonna make an impression on those people who came to stare at me. They'd see that Sallie Kent was not someone to laugh at. 

I wrapped my longish hair in a towel and began the process of putting on make-up. 

Now, I had never worn much in the way of face paint. I ain't never seen the point in it- beautiful women wore it along with their nice clothes, and I was just Sallie the waitress, so what'd I need it for? But today I weren't-- wasn't-- going to be 'Sallie the waitress.' I was gonna be beautiful today, and in being beautiful everyone would look at each other and say, 'why, _she_ couldn't have been a slut,' 'cause I just _knew_ that was what Bobby was gonna use as his defense. I was a slut who kept her legs right open and I _deserves_ what came to me. 

And if I didn't look like me anymore, I might just be able to fool them into thinking it wasn't true. 

But the make-up thing was proving to be more difficult than I thought it would. I kept smearing it as I tried to move on to something else, and the 'simple' applications that Megan tried to talk me through no longer sounded very simple to me. How was a body supposed to apply mascara to lashes that were barely there? Or, how come blush never looked so clumpy on other women? All of it was a mystery that took me almost an hour to figure out. In the end, though, determination and guess-work helped me out, 'cause I was finally able to step back and see that I done good. Maybe it weren't as glamorous as I would've liked, but it still did something for my face, even though I was still a bit bruised. 

I felt right silly putting on my dress without no bra. I know that God made me to not need one, but it has still become a part of who I am. I mean, I got used to having my little breasts cupped ad restricted, and it felt... alien to have them loose. As I stood there naked, I looked down at my breasts, wincing at the color of them. They weren't as blue and black as before, but I could tell that the yellow stain of bruising would be on my skin for quite a while to come. Thankfully, though, the bite marks had begun to scab over, so's I knew that over time they would heal and fade away. 

I pulled on the dress and smoothed it over my hips. I knew that I looked more like a woman in this than in my usual loose clothing, 'cause the thing hugged every single curve I almost had, making them look like more'an they were. But it was a classy tight, not a hooker tight, and I smiled at myself as I twisted up my hair into a high bun, liking the way that I looked. The jewelry was, I thought, a bit much, but that could be more that I've never had much jewelry to wear, so I weren't used to it. 

Finally, I put on my sandals (flats because I didn't want to trip and fall) and I looked at myself in the mirror. I felt different, like I wasn't me or something, like I was playing a character who was almost-pretty. I liked feeling like that- like I was in control and strong, and I walked up and down the small space of the bathroom, moving my hips like I had seen so many other women do. But it was different for me-- I didn't feel like I was moving to African drums or orgasmic joy. I just felt like I was waddling kinda funny, so's I cut that out. 

When I finally came out of the bathroom, all ready, Joel was waiting for me. He looked absolutely gorgeous in a dark gray suit and white button-up, his dark skin making a perfect contrast. I grinned at him and he grinned back, saying "You look absolutely beautiful, Sallie." Now, I knew he was just complimenting me, but it still made me feel all warm and shivery inside that he even bothered to say it. 

"And so do you," I replied, my heart in my tone, smiling to beat-all. He faltered for a moment, as if he weren't used to someone saying that, and then his grin was back full-force. 

"Shall we?" He held out his arm crooked at the elbow, and I felt mighty special as I took his arm and let him lead me out of the apartment. 

Today, I was gonna shine. 

I don't know quite what I expected a trial to be, but it certainly weren't what I got. 

For one, there was a lot of formal swearing and all that I wasn't so sure was necessary. I mean, _I_ wasn't going to lie, and Bobby sure as hell wasn't gonna tell the truth, even if they made him swear on a stack of Bibles. And then again, what if I weren't a religious woman? What hold would swearing on a Bible have on me if I didn't believe that the Bible was sacred? There was a lot going on that I weren't-- wasn't-- so sure about. 

This was supposed to be an informal hearing, but I didn't think it was all that informal. It seemed actually kinda stiff and structured the way they had me go up on that stand and give what they called a testimony. Now, I had seen all this on the TV once or twice before, so I sorta knew what they needed me to say, but it was mighty hard to get the words to come out of my mouth. I didn't want to haveta say things like this in front of other people-- it was just personal and all. And then there was Joel, who kept looking at me with these eyes that said he was with me, but for once I just wanted him to go away. He didn't need to know this about me. 

"And then what did Mr. McCleer do?" I almost didn't recognize Bobby's name the way they said it so respectful-like. He ain't never deserved a 'Mr.' that I can figure. 

"Well, he started... uh, going up inside of me and all, and I weren't-- _wasn't_ \-- wanting him to, and I was trying to get away, but he was on top of me and all...." 

"Excuse me, Miss. Kent, but I was under the impression that you and my client had past sexual encounters with one another." 

I was mighty confused-- what did this have to do with anything? "Well, yeah, we had had sex before, sure." 

He smiled, like I had just given him a candy bar. "And this night, you decided to take it back, is that it?" 

I could hear the stifled snicker that ran through the room, and the lawyer shrugged in a way that said 'Women.' I glanced over at Joel, and he looked so angry and sad that I wanted to rush down from the box right there and give him a hug. He shouldn't ever get upset over me. "No, that weren't-- _wasn't_ \-- it at all. I had decided that night that I didn't want to be with him no more 'cause he didn't do no work and he didn't show no love and...." 

"So you decided to break up with him?" 

"Yeah, basically." 

"Why?" 

Ah, damn, I didn't want to have to answer that question. I kinda froze on the stand, my eyes widening as my thoughts raced on how I was gonna answer the question without giving too much away. I mean, you don't tell a guy you love him on the witness stand for a rape trial-- you just don't. 

"Answer the question, Miss. Kent." 

I was screwed and there weren't no way out of it, so I just opened my mouth and let it rip. "He couldn't be a poppa to no babies." I knew that this didn't really make any sense, so before the fancy lawyer could ask me what I meant in his snide city voice, I answered him. "Bobby- that is, Mr. McCleer, he ain't the kinda man you want to spend your life with and raise babies with. He drinks and he uses drugs and he hits you when he's in a temper.... I didn't want to have to raise no children with him." 

"And are you pregnant?" 

"No, I'm not, but I _want_ to be, so I knew that I hadta get out. Besides, I knew there was a lot better in the world. I knew there was guys who could hold me and love me and not hit me when they're drunk or make me have sex when I'm so tired I'm aboutta die. I knowed there was a man like that, so I couldn't...." I wavered off and dropped my head, feeling the fool. I had answered the question good, but I felt like I was dirtying something but saying it like I did. I felt like I had tarnished something mighty special, and I just couldn't look at Joel to see if he were laughing at me. 

I guess what I said was good enough to get something done, 'cause the judge said that was enough, he heard it all, and there _was_ going to be a trial. My heart froze when he said this 'cause it meant that I'd have to go through all of this again, only worse, and I didn't want to have to face that. 

Can't we just let it rest? 

But I smiled as I got off the stand, trying desperately to hide my teary eyes. I felt dirty and stupid and oh, so miserable as I went down to where Joel and Megan and Blair and all the rest of them were. Megan hauled out and gave me a huge hug, telling me that I did a good job and should feel mighty proud of myself, but I didn't feel proud at all: I just felt bone-weary. I wanted to sleep forever. 

I didn't look at Joel as we all headed out towards the hall, afraid that I would see pity or disgust in his eyes. Tears were leaking down my face now, and I tried to wipe them away without being noticed, but I musta been obvious or something 'cause Megan took one look at me and said that we girls were going on to the bathroom. 

I nodded meekly and began to follow her, but I only got three steps before something grabbed my hand and tugged me around. Joel came up to look into my eyes, and he gently wiped a tear away, his face soft, which only made me cry the more. Mascara made black streaks down my face. 

"You did wonderfully up there," he said in a soft tone, his head ducked down so he could look into my shifting eyes. "And I'm very proud at how brave you were." The he smiled, a soft, gentle smile, and said, "What you said up there...? It was beautiful." 

And in his tone I heard more, I heard 'you are beautiful,' and it made my heart sing so good that I had to do something. Impulsively, I tugged him forward and kissed him, pressing my lips up against his in a kinda delirious joy. He froze for a moment, then kissed me back, his lips as soft and giving as I knew they would be, his arms wrapping around me and holding me close and cherished. 

We floated away up into the sky, just him and me, until suddenly I became aware of tittering all around me. I pulled away reluctantly, not wanting to leave his embrace, and looked at all the surrounding faces. 

They were grinning fit to die, all of them, and I couldn't help but grin back. Joel was chuckling and looking at me with wonder in his gaze, and I knew he felt the permanence in our embrace, just like I had. 

I kissed him one last time, this time on the broad black nose, and slipped out of his arms to follow a grinning Megan into the women's bathroom. My heart sang as I walked, and my eyes shown as I heard Rafe say: 

"It's about damn time." 

Well, I couldn't agree with him more. 

End Part One of The Eyes of the Beholder 


End file.
